How Far the Mighty Fall
by Azalea Drifter
Summary: Blackmail, a promise, and the day after from hell. Just when you think you've gotten your life figured out, you wake up to your potions professor's face. HGSS AU.


Disclaimer: Severus Snape, Hermione Granger, Minerva McGonagall and all other material from the Harry Potter series belongs to J.K. Rowling and her associates.

I know this idea has been overdone. I know that it might seem cliche. This is one of my first stories (the other being Shackles, an incomplete marriage law fic). So I ask that you read this with an open mind, I did take an original twist to it. I do have most of it done, but it hasn't been polished yet. Please be honest and provide constructive criticism. If you liked something, say why. If you didn't, say why and tell me what you would prefer. This is a learning experience for me and I want to become damn good at this, so any little bit helps. Thanks.

* * *

It was so bright outside that the light streaming through the windows managed to penetrate her eyelids relentlessly. She shifted and grumbled, "'Oo early." Throwing an arm over her eyes, she attempted to return to sleep and perhaps forget about that insistent pressure building up behind her temples. After a few moments of fruitless resting, the young woman sat up quickly, frustrated and tired. Her stomach gave a giant lurch and she clutched her arms around herself, trying to quell the sickness.

Groaning, she looked up and gazed at her surroundings. Even in her fuzzy state of mind she knew that there was definitely something amiss. The most obvious being the lack of crimson and gold in the near vicinity. Furrowing her brow, she knew she wanted to try and figure this out but for some reason, her mental processes weren't functioning correctly.

Sighing and resigning herself to confusion, she flopped down onto the bed, intent of falling asleep if it was the last thing she did. A startled yelp was heard.

This was followed by yet another startled yelp, though most definitely not of the same timbre.

Features swam before her eyes. Pale skin. A large nose. Black, stringy hair. Flesh. Oh, dear. Flesh.

A hand reached towards her face and she flinched, but the hand meant her no harm, it seemed. It seemed to be questioning whether she was real or not, and she hoped she managed to answer that by continuing to exist. She was rather good at that, now that she thought of it.

"Wha?" asked the owner of the hand, quite articulately. He had a deep voice that was creaky with the last remnants of sleep, leading those who heard it to believe that he would have a quite attractive bass voice once he had some coffee in him.

The young woman looked at him quizzically, knowing she knew him but not comprehending who he was. She thought for a moment about what her response would be and she finally managed to slur, "Mornin'."

To which she received a less than polite grunt.

Pinching the bridge of her nose, the pulsing in her head seemed to subside and she felt balanced enough to perhaps take a trip to the restroom. Pushing the coverlet off of herself, her poor unclothed body was assuaged by a gust of cold, dungeon air. She padded her way across the stone floor to a door which she hoped lead to the bathroom and not to the common area.

Her luck seemed to be in as she pushed open the door and entered a modest, but thankfully existent, bathroom. Gazing in the mirror, she caught a look at herself. She had large, black bags under her eyes, which contrasted eerily with her already pale skin. Her hair, which was wild at the best of times, looked as if it would be easier to just take a pair of scissors to it rather than attempt to brush it. Inspection of other things got pushed to the background as the urge to use the toilet became more insistent.

She managed quite well, in her restroom journey, but was glad to return back to the warm bed. Having splashed some cold water on her face, she seemed to be regaining some of her senses. She would have used warm water, of course, but it seemed that this part of the castle did not get decent heating.

She was just so very, very tired though. She knew there was something she was supposed to be concerned about, but she couldn't bring herself to care about it. Or well, care about it more than sleep. Curling under the covers, she thought she kicked something, but she decided to ignore it and deal with that later.

The thing she kicked though, was not too happy about it at all. She had managed to nick him in the upper thigh, he'll probably have a nice bruise to worry about for the next few weeks. A slight growl escaped his lips and he flung his arms towards the guilty party, successfully pushing her off of the bed.

She squeaked loudly in protest, though that didn't do much good, because she was still lying naked on that freezing floor. Getting angry, she pulled herself onto her feet, albeit unsteadily. Fixing a glare on her attacker, she became suddenly aware that he was glaring right back at her. And that he was very, very good at that.

Completely forgetting about her state of undress, the young woman put her hands on her hips and harrumphed. The man made a similarly childish response by snorting in disdain. "Who are you?" she asked eventually.

"Who are you?" the man repeated.

Oh no. Who was she? Searching her mind, she was surprised to come up empty. Wait…wait…no, there it was. She was…

A Gryffindor.

Okay, not exactly what she was looking for. Let's try that again. It began with an H…yes…or was that a G? She felt like she was wading through molasses mentally, each thought coming to her in pulses, not dissimilar to the way her headache throbbed.

"Severus Snape," said the man slowly, interrupting her thoughts. "Strange name, innit?" he commented wryly, not waiting for her to respond.

Severus Snape, now where had she heard that before? Her thoughts swum wildly, coming upon random memories such as "potions" or "Fluffy" and something about "toothpaste" though she'd be damned if she knew what that was about…

Oh. There it was. "Professor."

A look of complete horror crossed her face, more instinct and reflex than anything. The poor man on the bed looked chagrined a moment, as if he'd had this conversation about his name a million times before.

"Professor?" she inquired slowly, each syllable stressed for some odd reason.

Severus Snape, as he called himself, looked confused a moment. It seemed forever for him to make up a response, and even then, it was only a slow nod of his head.

A sinking feeling in her stomach was one of the clues that lead her to believe there was something wrong here. "You must be cold," Severus Snape commented, not really out of concern.

Glancing down at herself, yes, she did realize she was cold. Which lead her to wonder why she was undressed in the first place. "Last night was fun," Severus Snape interjected, apparently remembering something she didn't. He didn't say it maliciously, though it did almost sound as if it was a question.

Nodding dully, the young woman began to remember bits and pieces of the earlier night. Which lead her back to her earlier gastrointestinal messages.

Student (H…or was that G?) + Professor (Severus Snape) Trouble.

At least she was able to figure out that much. She felt her palms get sweaty and she realized that Professor Severus Snape was looking at her expectantly.

"Yes?" she asked finally, when he didn't say anything.

"Who are you?" he repeated for the second time.

Back to this again, she sighed internally. Her mind just didn't want to cooperate, it seemed. Wait a tic…Her. Hermy…Hermione! Ohhh she was on a roll and a smug look appeared involuntarily on her face.

"Hermione," she finally said. This answer was not met by rousing enthusiasm, as an almost imperceptible frown appeared on Professor Severus Snape's face. Suddenly, she felt very self-conscious.

Hermione, as she called herself, crossed her arms over her chest. Professor Severus Snape on the other hand, seemed to sober up a bit, for lack of better word. One hand went to pinch the bridge of his nose and the other pointed at a mahogany wardrobe. "Get a shirt," he ordered in a quiet voice.

Not really in any condition to refuse, she made her way to the wardrobe and found a oversized nightshirt within it, which she promptly pulled over her head. It wasn't much, but it did manage to help against that draft.

In the meantime, Professor Severus Snape got out of bed, muttering something to himself the entire time. He soon discovered he was nude, which was not received well. Hermione didn't think to avert her eyes as he passed her on his way to get some clothes, so she ended up getting an eyeful. She blushed crimson, though she couldn't think of why.

He pulled on a pair of boxers and a shirt similar to his own, threw her a imperceptible look and disappeared into the restroom. Hermione stood there, not knowing what to do. And she was still standing there, somewhat dazed, when he returned.

His hair was wet and he had a short, white towel slung around his neck. Upon seeing her once again he sighed, "Miss Granger."

Woah. So _that's_ where the G came from!

Oh wait, he didn't seem too pleased. Was there something wrong? She asked this.

He shook his head slightly, though she wasn't too sure if that was a "no, nothing's wrong" or simply a dismissal of her question. Apparently he wasn't going to elaborate either, because he grabbed her by the arm and lead her through a door, bringing her into some kind of sitting room. Directing her over to a couch, she sat down, all the while throwing questioning looks at Professor Severus Snape.

The recipient ignored these and simply said, "Stay here, I'll be back momentarily."

Momentarily. 5 syllables. Wow, that was good. Hermione Granger was impressed.

No time seemed to have passed at all; she was still pondering whether the "ily" in "momentarily" counted as one syllable or two when Professor Severus Snape returned. He stuck out his hand at her with a slight sneer and ordered, "Drink this."

Upon closer inspection, Hermione realized he was holding a small glass bottle in his hand. Reaching out, she took it from him. She uncorked it and downed it in one quick gulp, not wishing to linger on the foul taste any longer than necessary. As soon as the concoction hit her stomach though, she lurched forward in her seat and groaned, feeling very sick all of sudden.

"The potion does have that effect on many people. It will pass," Professor Snape said dryly, very much in control of the situation. "It's a Clarity Draught," he explained, though it didn't much matter at that point.

"Thanks ever so much," Hermione commented from in between her knees, before the gravity of the situation fell upon her. Sitting up straight, her eyes widened and she said, "Oh no."

That's it. Just oh no.

"Indeed, Miss Granger," Professor Snape looked down at her, looming above her in a rather imposing way.

Groaning, she folded her arms over her stomach and said timidly, "Am I going to be expelled?"

Professor Snape sighed and said, "Miss Granger, I have no doubt that you have been doused with a highly illegal potion." Taking a seat onto the couch he added, "Myself as well."

"Oh god," Hermione said. "And we…" she trailed off and cradled her head in her hands. "We did, didn't we?" she asked, turning crimson and hoping she was wrong.

A sound from the other side of the suite prevented Professor Snape from answering. It would seem someone had come through the door and was yelling, "Severus!" in undoubtedly irritated female voice.

He got up quickly and shouted furiously, "I'm _coming!_" Striding across the room, he attempted to intercept his guest before she entered the room. His efforts were in vain as Professor McGonagall entered in a panicked flurry, going on about a missing student and kidnapping.

"Minerva..."he said dangerously as she ventured further into his quarters. She was visibly upset, but surely she didn't believe her student was _here _of all places. He did have some credibility, after all.

Meanwhile, Hermione recognized Professor McGonagall's accent and swallowed a cry of panic. Willing herself to be invisible, she maintained her seat on the couch quietly, knowing that she would be spotted if she moved.

"Oh _Severus,_" Professor McGonagall said breathlessly as she reached the couch. "I didn't want to believe it, I didn't!" She flew to Hermione's side in a heartbeat and put a concerned arm around her, "Are you hurt dear, are you okay?" Taking in Hermione's attire, she frowned even more, her mind drawing conclusions before she even had the chance to hear Hermione and Severus' side of the story.

Hermione, who had held up so nicely until then, began to cry. She was overwhelmed already, and the sudden appearance of her favorite professor was just too much for her. Professor Snape turned a pasty shade as Professor McGonagall turned a vicious glare his way. "Minerva, it's not what you think," he tried to reason, though he knew it was futile.

"I don't want to hear it," she cut him off in clipped tones, standing up and steering Hermione towards the fireplace. When they reached it, she turned back to him and asked, "Can I trust you not to run off or must I bind you?"

Professor Snape collapsed into an armchair and shook his head. "I'll be here," he said in resigned tones. The time to argue was not now.

Throwing him one last glare, Professor McGonagall grabbed some floo powder off the mantle and guided Hermione through the fireplace. "Hogwarts Infirmary," she said clearly.

R/R


End file.
